Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Planes are basically my own personal hell. Who thought it was a good idea to trust our lives to a giant metal tube, held together by hope and the fact that some sleep-deprived mechanic didn’t forget a bolt at 3 a.m.? Yet here we are, lining up like sheep to get crammed into a flying anxiety coffin.
I suck in a breath and try to melt into the world’s most uncomfortable seat, staring out the window at a whole lot of nothing.
When I was a kid, I’d always pass out on planes, then wake up convinced I’d died and this was the weird limbo before meeting God. The clouds outside looked like some kind of purgatory holding pattern.
The music playing in my ears helps a little, but my nerves are still gnawing at me like they’ve got nothing better to do. I close my eyes, letting the song bleed into my thoughts, and drift into that weird half-sleep where my brain finally shuts up for once.
• ♡ •
“(Y/N)!” I hear Mila’s peppy voice calling out to me. I turn, pulling the headphones out of my ear. “Hey,” I say, my voice distant from what awaited me in a few hours.
As we leave the airport, Kacey grabs my bags and tosses them into the back of the rental. They herd me into the SUV like I’m precious cargo.
“We need to beat traffic,” Kacey says, all business. It’s my first time in New York, but honestly, I’m pretty sure there’s always traffic. Isn’t that the whole point of New York?
“How was the flight?” Mila twists around in her seat, her strawberry blonde hair in one of those braids that looks effortless but would take me three hours, a meltdown, and a YouTube tutorial.
I watch the city blur past, all neon lights and pure chaos.
“I slept through most of it, so… good? I guess?” I mumble, already scrolling through my notes app, which is practically a graveyard for half-baked ideas and unhinged ramblings I’ll probably never finish.
“Just good? God, (Y/N). You really are in your head too much. We are in New York! And you’re about to make a song with Malcolm Todd. This is your dream. So when we get into this cafe, you are going to hold your head up high and be as confident as ever.” Mila says, giving me her usual pep talk. She would give me one just like this one, right before every show or meet-and-greet. She was really the best assistant I could ever ask for.
Once we arrive, we shuffle out of the car, and I instantly get hit with New York air. People weren’t lying—it’s like breathing in pure ambition mixed with a side of car exhaust. Iconic, really.
I trail after Kacey and Mila inside. Kacey’s already on a mission, eyes locked on Matthew like he’s got some kind of people-radar built in. And part of me wouldn't be surprised if he did.
I glance around, seeing no sight of Malcolm. Maybe he was busy and didn't have the time. I wouldn't blame him. Maybe then my nerves could finally catch a break.
“Matthew, hey.”
Fuck me, spoke too soon.
I turn around and there he is, eyes locking with mine. “You must be (Y/N),” he says, flashing a smile that could probably ruin lives.
“Yeah, that’s me. Hope you weren’t expecting someone cooler.” I blurt, awkwardly clasping my hands together. Nice one, (Y/N). Real smooth.
Malcolm laughs, pulling his hands from his leather jacket. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He hugs me, and I freeze for a second before hugging him back, trying to play it cool.
“Is it?” slips out before I can stop myself.
“Yeah, when I heard your music. It felt refreshing, it felt new. I mean, the specific way you choose to let the instruments speak and flow around your voice… It’s captivating to say the least.” I was flattered. Beyond astounded. Malcolm Todd called my music captivating. Right.. Okay.
“You’re just being nice.”
“I could be, or I just know a true musician when I hear one.”
I shake my head, but I can’t hide the smile that is already forming on my lips. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Agree to disagree.” He nods, all confidence and charm, and honestly, it’s almost enough to make me want to scream into a pillow.
Malcolm Todd really is exactly what he advertises. Or at least, he’s doing a damn good job pretending. “I get help from my friends. You do all the beats and stuff by yourself, no?” He adds.
“I mean, yeah. Though Kacey and Mila are there through every process I do, helping me with ideas and whatnot.” I look at him as I talk, and he’s listening, like, actually listening to me. I’ve done only two songs with other artists in the past, and I’m not entirely sure either of them took the time to listen to any of my songs.
My nerves start to chill out the more we talk. Malcolm’s passionate about his music, and honestly? His music is damn good, so how could he not?
When you’re good at something, you fall in love with it, and there’s nothing like putting something out there for people to vibe with. But for some reason, the way he actually wanted to hear how I wrote my songs, how I came up with ideas, how I managed to pour my exact feelings into a recording—it was a breath of fresh air, to finally talk to someone who wasn’t just in it for the money or the clout, but actually wanted their voice to be heard.
Hoping that someone out there would get it, maybe even feel a little less alone. Music’s all subjective, really, but it’s also the one thing that can pull people together.
So many stories in just one song, depending on who’s listening.
“How come you haven’t signed with any record deals yet?”
“Most record deals want me to change my voice for them, and that’s just not something I’m comfortable with.”
“A musician who knows what she wants. I admire that.”
Malcolm and I claim a tiny round table that looks like it was made for Instagram. The whole place is aggressively cute, like it’s trying to win an award. “Are all New York cafes like this?” I ask, glancing around at the cozy chaos. You can tell people actually live here—really live here. Not just exist.
“Eh, it depends on where you go. Is this your first time being in New York?”
“If you want to count, like, the two seconds I had a layover here, then yes. But if you aren’t, then no.”
Malcolm looks at me like I just admitted I’ve never seen the ocean or something. I take a sip of my coffee, letting the warmth and sugar hit my tongue, and I'm dragged back to reality.
“So, you’ve never actually been in the city.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You’re lucky you have me then, (Y/N). I consider myself a NYC local guide.” He smiles, and I laugh.
“Do you now?” Malcolm nods, looking at me with excited eyes. “Certified.” He says, cooly, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders.
My whole apartment smells like cookies, the kind of warm, sugary scent that makes you want to eat the air. I’m spinning around the kitchen, singing way too loud to whatever’s blasting from the TV, trying to keep myself from just ripping the oven door open and burning my mouth. I’m mid-dance, voice echoing off the cabinets, when the music dies, and my phone starts buzzing on the counter, killing my vibe.
“Kacey, what’s up?” I answer.
“(Y/N), you’re flying out to New York on Sunday.” Kacey’s voice is all business, but my brain short-circuits. I scrunch up my face, totally lost. “Wait, what? Why so sudden?” My mind is running a marathon, tripping over every possible reason, but none of them stick because, honestly, if something big was happening, Mila would’ve spilled already.
“You know how that interview you did recently gained attention. Well… Malcolm Todd’s manager and I—”
“Wait, wait. Malcolm Todd wants to make a song with me? As in, we’re going to make a song together. Malcolm Todd and I are making a song… together.”
Honestly, saying I’m excited and nervous is the biggest understatement ever. My brain is glitching. This cannot be real life. Kacey’s laughing at me while I’m just sitting here, silently losing my mind. “Kace, are you messing with me right now?”
“No, (Y/N). I’m not. This is real and good for your career. Even talking about Malcolm Todd helped you gain numerous new listeners.” He says, reassuring my nerves.
I drag in a shaky breath, fingers tangled in my hair, and then—bam. The sharp, traitorous smell of burnt sugar slaps me in the face, yanking me straight out of my little fantasy. I swear under my breath, bolt to the oven, and yank out a tray of what used to be cookies. Now they’re just sad, black hockey pucks. Perfect.
“Is everything okay?” Kacey asks, to which I groan. “No, I burnt my cookies!”
I hear his laughter, coming through the speaker of my phone. “You’ll survive.”
“I doubt it.” I pout, snatch my phone, and escape to the balcony, letting the night air cool me off. Kacey launches into full-on manager mode, rattling off, “Sunday, flight at 8AM. Mila and I will already be there when you land. I’ll send you the rest.” He’s all business, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at how bossy he sounds.
“Ay, ay, captain.” I hum, leaning back against the chair, the night wind blowing in soft waves.
“Oh—and (Y/N). You have nothing to worry about, okay? This is an amazing opportunity. Plus, you could learn a few things from Malcolm, too.” Kacey says, in a slightly softer tone than before. “Yeah, I know. Just scared I’m going to mess this up, and ruin everything we’ve built.” I swallow, tapping my finger against the metal arm of the chair.
“You won’t mess this up, I promise. Just go in there with ideas you’ve had, which I know isn’t hard for you. Your ear for music is a gift (Y/N). Just because you’re making a song with Malcolm Todd doesn’t mean you have to change your voice, just to appeal to him and what you think he wants to hear. It took you this long to finally find your signature sound, don’t lose it now.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to get all mushy. “Thanks, Kacey. Seriously, I’d be a disaster without you.” And it’s true. He’s the one who drags me out of my creative graveyard when I’m convinced I suck or my brain just refuses to work. He’ll force me outside, make me talk, or do something weird just to shake me up. He always says burnout isn’t the end, it just means you have to go hunting for new sparks.
“Of course, (Y/N). It’s also kind of my job to keep you in check.” He chuckles, and I laugh too. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what managers are for, or something like that.”
“Exactly. Okay, feelings aside. 8AM Sunday, don’t miss your flight.”
The rest of the night is just me, windows wide open, waving away the ghost of burnt cookies. Eventually, I end up at my piano, lights low, city sounds drifting in. My fingers hover over the keys, searching for something that feels like right now. I close my eyes and let the music spill out, letting the piano say everything I can’t.
AN: Sorry it’s short… may or may not be a filler for now. But pls enjoy it anyways.
A week later, the podcast video wormed its way onto TikTok. Clips started blowing up, and, of course, it didn’t take long before Malcolm saw it.
Malcolm is sprawled out on his bed, guitar in his arms, just strumming whatever came to mind. The kind of melodies that are only for him, never meant to leave the four walls of his room. His phone buzzes against the mattress, pulling him out of his little world. He sighs, sets the guitar aside, and grabs his phone. It’s a text from Matthew, his manager.
“Yo, check out this clip I just saw. I listened to some of her music, and I thought maybe she’d be a good voice on the album you’re working on.”
The text is below a TikTok link. Malcolm taps on it, opening the video. “Okay, last question. Who is your dream artist to make a song with?” (Y/N) takes a second to think about it, letting out a soft, breathy chuckle before answering the question. “Oh, god. Okay. I would love to make a song with Cosmos Demos or with Malcolm Todd. They have been on my dream list since, like, forever.”
He opens the comments and reads through what people are thinking. “Malcolm X (Y/N), would literally be a dream come true.” “Omg, please. They would sound AMAZING together.” “I feel like they both have two totally different vibes, idk.” “Malcolm, bro. Get (Y/N) into that studio.” “Me when my two worlds are colliding.”
He opens up Spotify, types in (Y/N)’s name, and just hits shuffle. The first song, “Wish I Didn’t Love You,” slips out of his speakers—soft, groovy, the kind of track that makes you want to close your eyes and just feel it. Her voice weaves through the music, heavy with something he can’t quite name. He catches himself nodding along, fingers tapping out the beat, and there’s this ache in the song, like missing someone you never really had in the first place.
(Y/N) is an up and coming artist in the music industry.
First person POV, use of (Y/N).
AN: I had too much time on my hands, pls enjoy.
Relationships and I? Yeah, we don’t really get along. Half the time, just letting someone get close feels like I’m being smothered, like I can’t breathe. But then there are those nights where I want it so bad—something slow, something that doesn’t make me want to run for the hills. I want the kind of love that feels like it belongs in a movie, the kind where someone looks at me like I’ve invented the stars. I know, it’s just a fantasy. But every night, I still catch myself wishing for it, even if I know it’s never going to happen.
“(Y/N), you should go out with Theodore. He’s exactly your type. Cute, tall, funny, charismatic. I could keep listing things,” Evelyn said, her voice coming through my phone.
“I don’t know…”
Evelyn lets out this dramatic sigh, like she’s been carrying the weight of my love life on her back. "Girl, it's been what? Two years since you’ve been with someone. This is becoming unreal." She’s got that tone, all snark and sass, but I know she means well. She hates seeing me go full hermit mode—quiet, ghosting plans, tired all the time. She likes it better when I’m out there, doing weird stuff like complimenting strangers just to see them smile, or going on those late-night walks where we talk about the future or debate if nothing is actually something, or if it’s just a fancy word for empty space.
I shift on the couch, cocooned in my favorite blanket, the TV droning on in the background with some show I stopped paying attention to ages ago. "I’m just waiting for the right time. I want it to be natural, not forced," I say, like a broken record. I’ve said it so many times, it’s basically my catchphrase at this point.
“I envy the high standards you have, especially in this society.”
“Someone once told me to never settle for less, so that's what I’m trying to do. I’ve lowered my standards once for a guy, and he showed me to never lower them again.”
Evelyn knew she couldn’t change my mind, no matter how hard she tried. “Okay, well.. it was worth a try. I have to go. I love you, though. Talk to you later.”
And just like that, the call ends. I toss my phone onto the couch and stare at the TV, not really seeing anything. Maybe I’ll just be alone forever. Is that really the worst thing? I don’t know. Still trying to figure that one out.
All I know for sure is that I like the quiet. I bury my head into a throw pillow and just breathe. No one to text back, no one to call, no one expecting anything from me. It’s kind of nice.
It was just Damon Salvatore and me as he appeared on the screen.
• ♡ •
Mila opens the car door for me, and I step out, staring up at the building like it might swallow me whole. I suck in a breath. "You’ll do amazing, (Y/N)," Mila says, all sunshine and pep. I just mutter, "I hope I don’t make a fool out of myself." My stomach is a mess. Performing in front of a crowd? Easy. But interviews? That’s a whole different beast. One wrong word and suddenly you’re a meme or a headline. That’s what freaks me out the most. I dodge social media whenever I can. I love my fans, I really do, but being seen by so many people? It’s a nightmare.
“Okay. His name is Alex Vega. He’s nice and won’t, like, try to end your career.” Mila says, trying to calm my nerves. But by the expression I wore, it wasn’t making me feel any better.
We step off the elevator and into the studio. It had a cozy atmosphere, nothing crazy or over the top. “You must be (Y/N).” A woman greets, smiling softly. “I’m Mary. Cohost of Indie Pulse Sessions. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
I sit down and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. Mila keeps telling me I have nothing to worry about, that Mary and Alex are cool and won’t try to trip me up. She’d never throw me to the wolves, anyway. She spends hours stalking every company that emails us, just to make sure they’re not sketchy. Most of them get ghosted or left on read.
Alex and Mary do their intro, introducing me to their podcast. They were cheery and excited to have me appear on their show. “Okay, (Y/N). Let’s start off with an easy question.” Mary inquires as she organizes the notecards in her hands.
“What inspired you to start making music?”
There was a pause as I thought for a second; there were a lot of things that had inspired me to make music and want my voice to be heard. “Uhm, there are a lot of things that inspired me and continue to inspire me today. But one main thing I would have to say is my dad. He had always been on the artistic side of things. Making his own beats, covering songs, he sketched a lot. Just having that influence as a child always made me want to take what he showed me and turn it into something bigger. My most recent song, Steady, is about him.” I smile, expression soft. I loved talking about my dad more than anything.
The interview actually goes pretty well. Nothing weird, nothing that makes me want to crawl out of my skin or overthink every word I say.
“Okay, last question. Who is your dream artist to make a song with?” Alex asks.
“Oh, god. Okay. I would love to make a song with Cosmos Demos or with Malcolm Todd. They have been on my dream list since, like, forever.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
late nights with malcolm consist of the TV faintly playing while you two are cuddled up on the coach, a random movie you two have watched millions of times slowly getting forgotten as you two slowly doze off in each other's arm- what was originally supposed to be a movie marathon ultimately shifted to you two getting closer, and then you shifting into malcolm's arms, which ultimately ended with you dozing off on his chest, malcolm shortly following after placing a quick kiss to your head, whispering a soft "sweet dreams, angel" into your scalp.
tori talks♡- having little blurbs popping into mind, not full fics but blurbs! perhaps more tonight ♡
Malcolm had broken up with you and shows back up in town.
use of (Y/N), kissing, fingering.
AN: pls bear with me, I lowkey suck at writing smut and it’s barely even smut anyways. So just enjoy ig.
Malcolm is right there, leaning against the brick wall like he owns the place, leather jacket and all. Cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling up and making the air taste like him.
You look at him, raising your hand and gently waving it to push away the smoke. "Get that cigarette smoke out of my face." You sigh, sliding your hand back into your jacket.
The wind messes with your hair, strands sticking to your lips. Malcolm glances at you, then crushes the cigarette out against the wall, like he's trying to erase the evidence.
"I thought you left." You mutter, his eyes connecting with yours. He clears his throat , shifting his gaze away for a second. "I, uh, did." He nods.
"Then why are you back?"
He stutters, fingers raking through his hair. Classic Malcolm, nervous as hell. Back when he first started playing music, you were his biggest fan, cheering him on like an idiot in love. You always knew he'd make it big, but you never let yourself think about what that would mean for you.
He was always the one who stuck around. Not clingy, just... solid. The kind of person who promised, 'I'm not going anywhere,' and actually meant it.
So when he broke up with you, it didn't feel real. Maybe you were just stupidly hopeful, holding onto something that was already slipping away.
"I was visiting some family and old friends." He says, eyes never leaving yours.
You cross your arms, nodding. "Right. Sure."
"Yeah, is that so hard to believe?" He scoffs a bit. Once a sassy man, always a sassy man.
"Honestly, yeah,"
"You told me you wanted nothing to do--"
"Okay, well maybe I was wrong." He cuts you off. You stop, your expression changing from frustration to confusion and disbelief. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean... that you were always right. That you always just knew. That you're just real."
"And I.. I miss you more than I thought I would."
You didn't know whether or not to be angry or let the ache in your chest take over. "Malcolm--"
"I should just go. I'm sorry." He turns to leave, but your body moves before your brain catches up. Your hand grabs his wrist. "I should be pissed at you right now. Seriously. What you did was shitty."
"(Y/N)--"
"Hold on, let me finish." He steps closer, like he can't help himself.
"And it's not fair, you showing up like nothing happened. Like you could just forget me and pretend I'm some stranger." You suck in a shaky breath.
"It wasn't even the breakup that hurt the most. It was how you acted after. But I can't hate you. I can't stop thinking about you, and that's the part that really sucks."
"(Y/N).."
"I'm still not done."
His jaw tightens as he watches you. "How you could just forget me, how you could—"
He grabs your face gently, his lips finding yours in a fluid motion. You couldn't help that you leaned into it, your hands sliding into the familiar spots of his hair.
Malcolm's hands trail down to your hips and pull you closer, like he never forgot. He tilts his head into you, your noses nuzzling into each other.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you." You say into the kiss.
Somehow, you end up in his hotel room. Malcolm's hands are on you, undressing you slow under the silver spill of moonlight through the window.
His hands find all the places he's missed, his mouth tracing up your neck. You turn your head when he kisses your cheek, and then his hand slips into your underwear. You gasp, can't help it.
Malcolm's lips catch the sound, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your head closer.
His middle finger brushes your clit and your body just reacts, pressing into him, desperate for more. He slides his finger back, curling it just right.
You arch into his hand, pulling his finger deeper, chasing that feeling.
You gasp, your lips leaving his. "So good for me." He whispers, his breath tickling your neck.
He moves his fingers slow and deep, working you open. Your hips grind into his hand, matching him, eyes locked on his.
Malcolm slides a second finger in, curling them in the best way. Your hands are grabbing onto his biceps.
Everything about this is intoxicating. You can't get enough.
His fingers, his arm locked around you, the burn of his kiss—it's all too much. You never thought you'd get this again.
Malcolm leans back just to watch your face, eyes dark as he feels you clench around his fingers.
"Cum for me." He says gently, though his movements are anything but. With another pump of his fingers, you feel your legs tremble, the tight feeling in your stomach loosening as the air rushes back into your lungs.
"Malcolm," You moan breathlessly. "Thought I'd never hear you say my name like that again."
He bends down, grabs the backs of your knees, and lifts you up against him. Carries you to the bed, lays you down, his body covering yours like he's afraid you'll disappear.
"So beautiful for me." Malcolm sighs, sealing his words with a soft kiss on your lips.
Malcolm is on tour and you decide to surprise him.
Use of Y/n, fluff, kissing, and light swearing.
AN: this a little longer, so let me know if there are any mistakes or just things that don’t make sense.
You and Malcolm have been doing the long-distance thing for over a year now. Not exactly the dream, but here you are—actually liking your college, making friends, soaking up the Florida sun like it’s some kind of reward for surviving.
And, yeah, Malcolm is the reason you picked UCF. Like, let’s not pretend otherwise.
°• - • - •°
"Come on, Y/N. You like the beaches, the hot weather." He’s sitting next to you on your bed, and you can’t help but look away from your laptop, that familiar ache settling in your chest.
You hate how right he is about you 90% of the time. It’s a gift and a curse. Mostly a gift, if you’re being honest.
A sigh slips out, your chest deflating. "I don’t know. It’s pretty far, and I’ll miss you. And everyone else."
Malcolm smiles softly at you, and you swear time slows down more than usual.
He moves his hand up, cups your cheek, and you tilt your head up, leaning into his touch like it’s second nature.
God, you’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss everything about him.
"You should go. You'll be happy out there," he said softly. He didn’t need to say anything more.
He knows it. You know it. No one has to say it out loud.
You chew the inside of your cheek, roll your head toward the laptop on your bed. Your hand hovers, then you press the mouse pad and click "accept."
°• - • - •°
Luckily, Malcolm was playing at The Plaza Live tonight. It was only an eight-minute drive from your college, so you felt extra lucky.
You text Charlie about your plan, and he’s more than happy to help. Your thumbs fly across your phone, telling him you and Maggie just parked.
Maggie—your dorm mate—parks her car in some random lot. "I’ll have you know this is actually the first concert I’ve ever been to," she says, pulling the keys out of the ignition. "So he better be, like, super good." You laugh.
"Personally, I think he’s amazing. But you gotta find that out for yourself." You smile, shaking your head.
When Malcolm first started touring, you loved watching him perform. The smile on his face, the energy from the crowd, the way his eyes lit up, the way he moved to his own songs. It was all so captivating.
Your mind replays the moments Malcolm would dance and sing to you, never failing to make you smile. He’d saunter over with the widest grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling, that sparkle in his eyes, as he grabbed your hands and pulled you against him.
He’d twirl you around and sing to you, and eventually you’d join in, singing back to him.
The song always ended in a kiss, his arms wrapped tight around your waist, like he never wanted to let go. "I’m kinda nervous," you admit, biting your cheek. A habit you can’t break, even if you tried. Maggie gives you a look. "Are you being for real?" She laughs, eyebrows furrowed, creases forming on her forehead.
"What if—" you start, but Maggie cuts you off. "Y/N, don’t be silly. You were literally just texting him earlier today."
She’s right, but the distance has been eating away at you. What if Malcolm’s feelings aren’t the same anymore, just because you can’t see him or talk as much?
But those worries fade when your phone rings. You see Charlie’s name on the screen. "Hello," you say, pressing the phone to your ear.
Charlie’s voice comes through the speaker.
"Hey, come to the side of the venue. I’m holding the door open."
You and Maggie round the side of the building and spot Charlie. A wide grin pulls at your lips. "Charlie!" you call, moving over to him. "Long time no see."
"Damn right," he says, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms go around your shoulders, making your smile stretch even wider. "Malcolm is going to be so happy. You have no idea."
Your chest flutters at his words, impatience bubbling up inside you.
Maggie nudges you. "I told you so," she teases, and you shake your head at her. "Whatever," you mutter, nudging her right back.
Charlie leads you inside, your heart pounding with every step. He stops in the hallway, just before the green room. Where you can hear him talking to his other friends, the sound warming your chest.
"Ready?" Charlie grins playfully, looking at you and Maggie. You shake your head, dragging out the suspense. Your fingers twist together in front of you, knuckles turning white.
Charlie finally opens the door and steps inside, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.
"Hey, man," Malcolm says as he walks in. "Where’d you go?"
“I had some spec"I had some special business to take care of," Charlie says with a mysterious tone. "Oh, yeah? And what is this—" up his eyes locked on you as you stand in the doorway.
He doesn’t say anything. He just closes the distance and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you against him.
"You’re here," he says, almost in disbelief. "So, you play only eight minutes from my college and don’t expect me to show up?" You laugh.
"You know what I mean."
"No, not real—"
He leans down, pressing his lips into yours in a desperate, longing way. The kiss pulls you closer, your fingers sliding into the familiar strands of his hair.
Jonah groans from the couch, "Get a room!"
Their teasing doesn’t faze Malcolm. He’s used to getting a mouthful about being head over heels.
He always tells them, "You’re just jealous I have a beautiful girlfriend."
But they’re right. Malcolm is the definition of wrapped around your finger. He could never get enough of you, so when he told you to go to Florida, part of him was inconsolable from the distance.
He’s grateful you’re following your dreams, doing what you want, but he’s selfish enough to just want to keep you with him all the time.
"Alright, sorry to break up this sweet moment, but we have to be on stage, like, now," Asher says, cutting in.
You pull away from Malcolm, and he follows your movements, reluctant to let go just yet.
A soft giggle rumbles in your chest. "Hey, I’ll be watching you. And cheering you on." You smile, cupping his face.
"Okay, okay." He nods, grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together. Everyone files out of the green room and toward the stage.
The boys move on stage, but Malcolm hangs back. He looks at you, that same sparkle in his eyes. "I love you."
You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting onto your tiptoes. He leans down so you can hug him properly, holding you against him.
"Break a leg for me, yeah?" you say softly, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
"Always for you." He winks, then walks on stage as you and Maggie watch from the wings.
"God, you two are, like, sickly sweet." She smiles, crossing her arms.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
your chest rises softly, then falls as you let the air slip out of your lungs.
his head blocks the early morning sun pouring in through the window, his breath warm against your skin in quiet exhales.
light spills around him anyway, crowning his head in gold and tracing the gentle lines of his face. you stay still, curled on your side, the fan humming in the background like distant static.
he shifts, just barely — the sheets slide lower on his waist.
an arm tightens around you, pulling you closer, his head tucking into the space between your neck and shoulder. he inhales deeply, and when he speaks, the sound rumbles low in his chest.
“good morning,” he hums, already sinking further into you.
his body presses against yours, heat radiating, wrapping you up like a cocoon. you lean in and place a soft kiss against his warm skin.
“good morning, Malcolm,” you whisper.
he relaxes instantly, as if you’re his excuse not to move, not to face the day yet.
you don’t mind — you never do.
Malcolm loves closeness: the smallest touches, fingers brushing, shoulders bumping, an arm draped around you without thinking, a knee pressed against yours when you sit side by side.
he loves the way you react to him, the looks you give, the way your body responds. every inch, every part.
the door creaks open.
“look at you two,” Charlie says, voice exaggerated, teasing. “like two peas in a pod. all snuggly.”
Malcolm lets out a quiet laugh, lifting his head just enough to glare at him. his hair sticks up in directions you’ve never seen before.
“you’re a fucking prick.”
“hey,” Charlie grins, backing away. “be glad it’s not christmas morning. i’d be jumping on you.”
“we won’t be here for christmas,” Malcolm replies.
“we won’t?” you echo, brows knitting as you look up at him. “you won’t?” Charlie also says.
“we’ve got that thing i told you about,” he says to charlie — which explains absolutely nothing to you.
“wait.” you sit up, pushing your hair behind your ear. “where are we going?”
Charlie slips out and shuts the door quietly behind him. Malcolm turns back to you, smiling like he knows something you don’t.
“it’s a surprise.”
his fingers hook under your chin, tilting your face up before he leans in and kisses you. you pull back just enough to look at him.
“kissing me won’t stop me from asking questions.”
“Oh, really?” his eyebrows lift, amused.
“Yes, really,” you laugh — even as your fingers slide into his hair, betraying you.
“mm,” he murmurs. “we’ll see about that.”
he kisses you again, deeper this time, shifting his weight over you as the world narrows down to warmth, breath, and the promise of whatever he isn’t telling you.
word count: 465 (2,600 including characters)
A/N: was in the mood so I wrote this. might make a part two to this and make it longer (a little).
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
jacobvanloon
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
